


Demons

by bewear



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-20 01:02:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8230807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bewear/pseuds/bewear
Summary: This is my first time writing for Overwatch, and of course it was inevitably Mchanzo angst. Feedback is appreciated, and I hardly finish anything so if you think it's worth progressing with let me know.





	

"Hanzo.. fuck.. are ya here?" Mccree mumbled out. He had awoken in a stupor after a bad nightmare. 

He reached out his hand, fumbling to find his boyfriend on the other side of the bed. His hand felt nothing. "That's right.. he's gone.. fuckin' asshole said he'd never leave me."

His head rested in his hands, one flesh the other metal. "It's been too damn long... Hanzo darlin' come back." 

He didn't even realize his eyes were damp with tears that struggled to come out after 2 years of mourning a man he knew wasn't coming back. 

It didn't even matter that he had a nightmare about his Deadlock days. It didn't matter hearing his 17 year old self scream as he watched his "family" die around him at the hands of Overwatch. 

Nothing mattered now that Hanzo was gone. He should be used to being alone. Nothing was ever permanent in his life. Not Deadlock, not Reyes, not Overwatch, and sure as hell not Hanzo fuckin' Shimada. 

He was the lone wolf type, this shit shouldn't hurt. But loving the only person to ever make him feel loved knowing nothing ever lasts, god, he couldn't take it. 

It was like the devil had finally come to claim him, but instead took his reason to live. It was like having his heart cut out of his chest but the wounds only bled out inside where no one else could see. 

Becoming a vigilante and making his own morals and rules was fun, but coming home to a cold, empty, unmade bed cut open old scabbed wounds.

He was Jesse goddamn Mccree for fucks sake. He was better than shedding tears and hearing his broken sobs echo in an empty room. 

Hanzo wouldn't want him to be crying like a fuckin' bitch at 5 am. But maybe, realizing the wounds hadn't healed and were merely bandaged was the first step to moving on. 

But how do you move on from the only person to make you feel alive outside of the heat of battle? How do you repair those deep internal gashes that threaten to burst open? How do you let go? 

Hanzo was proof that nothing good ever lasts and bad people shouldn't make it as long as he had. But Hanzo wasn't bad and felt remorse.. the only thing Jesse felt was the screams of the people he killed late at night. 

If this was punishment, god, he deserved it. Being a good shot, being a good _murderer_ was disgusting.

But knowing Hanzo heard Genji's screams as he was being murdered in his dreams and being able to grab his hand. 

Being able to show a fucked up man he deserved love and redemption.. fuck if that wasn't what he felt he deserved himself. 

He would have given everything to Hanzo, his life included.


End file.
